


a true war story

by smartlike



Category: Popslash
Genre: Character Study, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-10-15
Updated: 2013-10-15
Packaged: 2018-05-19 14:19:13
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 12,258
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5970097
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/smartlike/pseuds/smartlike
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Justin has always been quiet and careful. He winds his watch twice a day, every day, and checks to make sure it's keeping the right time at least once an hour. He counts cracks in the sidewalk like dance steps. Each one makes him smile and after two hundred he always makes sure to call his mom and start the count over again. He cracks his knuckles every fifty-seven minutes and it takes him forty-eight seconds to do it just right.</p>
            </blockquote>





	a true war story

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks to Althea and Spikeless for the betas. And especially to k8 for doing it twice. Section headers and title via Tim O'Brien. Dressing room graffiti via Tom Stoppard.
> 
> Originally posted at http://www.obsessivetendencies.net/pmp/tob.html

**_a true story that never happened_ **

Justin doesn't know what to say, really. It always seems like he does, like he knows just what to say in every situation. But that's just because no one asks him the right questions. He keeps waiting for something he doesn't know, worrying that there will come a moment when he'll have no idea what the right answer might be. He can hear it in his head, the bright white silence that'll follow just the wrong question. 

He reads over the sheets they give him before the interview, telling him what'll be asked. His publicist got it first and then his assistant and they each crossed things out in red and added blue highlighting. It's messy and Justin rubs at the streaks of marker as if he could wipe them away, stares at the bold black letters without reading them. Justin's waiting in the Green Room -- which is actually brown -- and he checks his watch. Ten minutes until he's on, so he takes a deep breath and skims the list. 

_The NSync thing, did it end badly? * Are you and Britney still friends? * Is it strange to be touring alone? * What was it like working with Missy... Mos Def... Smokey Robinson...? * Why didn't you tour after the first album?_

Justin cocks his head, surprised that one got by the publicist. Usually she discourages it, but he supposes Jay Leno gets to ask questions Carson Daly doesn't. It doesn't matter though, because he knows the answer to that one, too. He finishes reading and stands. He props his foot on a chair to retie his Nikes, rubbing at a scuff just over the right heel. When the PA comes to get him, he nods and follows, checking his watch and cracking his knuckles.

He smiles big, sits in the chair and answers the questions. "Not at all, it was just time." "Of course." "It kind of is, but I'm dealing." "Fun... incredible... honored." "We had the NSync album to do, man, no time for little old me." Jay laughs and Justin can see the publicist smile offstage.

Really, he didn't tour before because he was trying to hold everything together -- his relationships, the band, himself. But now there's nothing to hold and it's a weight off his shoulders, but it also leaves him with empty hands. So it's his first solo tour and he's gotta do the promo, gotta make the rounds and give the magazine interviews. Mostly he just wishes that he could get on with it, see how he'll do by himself and not have to wonder anymore. 

But that's not how the game works. Instead, he visits all the shows. He sits on the stool at _TRL_ and in the cushy armchair on _Conan_ and on a hard backed chair on _Last Call_. He sits there, chewing his lip and cracking jokes and inside he's still waiting and worrying.

Justin thinks he should be glad that he's never caught unprepared, but the thing is, he wants them to ask. He craves the moment where his mouth goes dry and he's stuck staring into space, his people frantic on the sidelines. He wants the rough edges of the question to stab at him, for nothing to be smooth but the silence, just once. So he wishes for what he shouldn't and really, there's nothing new about that.

He answers every single question just the way he prepared and bites the inside of his cheek to keep from screaming. And still no one ever asks anything unexpected. 

After each interview he nods, shakes hands, signs a cd, thanks everyone, washes his face and collapses in his car, breathing heavy as though he'd just run a few miles. He slumps against the seat and in the quiet air-conditioned space he listens to the silence. It's soothing. And Justin thinks maybe that's the problem. 

**

He wants to start the tour somewhere away, somewhere in the middle of the country where no one he knows will show up. Justin says this out loud and Johnny laughs, shakes his head and suggests a hip new LA club for the kickoff party. Justin sighs and calls Lance for the name of that party planner he likes.

The party is fun, Johnny's right, but Justin is tired and it's hard to smile at people he doesn't know or used to love or thinks he hates and wonder who they are. Everyone liked the show and Justin knows they don't care what was wrong, so he never tells them. After twenty minutes trapped talking to a record executive, JC comes up and raises an eyebrow. When Justin grins, JC pulls him away and they retreat to a fire escape outside the owner's office.

"You know," JC inhales and grimaces. "The second verse of 'Right For Me' doesn't fit with that new dance routine." There's a long pause and then JC exhales, coughing just a little. "And the new song? I think it should come later in the set."

Justin sips his drink and thinks. Nods. "You got a pen?"

JC does, of course and hands it over. He watches as Justin notes _rfm - 2 no, hjk - later_ on his wrist. 

**

Los Angeles. Las Vegas, Phoenix. 

Theaters, which he's never played before. They went from dark German clubs to gleaming American shopping malls and then on to bigger and better venues. But theaters feel just right for him now, with smaller stages and smaller crowds and he smiles at people like he means it and not because he's supposed to. 

Portland, Vancouver, Seattle. Dallas.

In Houston, his dressing room is tiny and there's graffiti just below the mirror. 

> _The truth is always a compound of two half-truths, and you never reach it, because there is always something more to say. -- TS_

Justin runs his fingers over the letters, slipping his nail into the second 'm'. He sits there, thinking, until the makeup girl comes looking for him.

*

 ** _it's for getting at the truth when the truth isn't sufficient for the truth_**

Lance broke Justin's heart first. That's the way everyone remembers it. They were eighteen and twenty and Justin had a crush and Lance had never had anyone look at him just that way before. Justin stared at Lance with a gleam in his eye that said Lance might be the thing that made everything make sense and leered like he could see through Lance's clothes. So Lance said 'yeah, sure, let's try.' But Lance had never had anyone look at him just that way before and it didn't take long for him to realize he didn't like it at all. Lance had to work hard to keep his own life in order and it turned out making someone else's life make sense was a lot harder than Lance had thought.

Lance can clearly recall the way that Justin's mouth seemed to split in two, hovering between a smile and a pout, when everything ended. Lance said 'um, Justin. I meant _us_. I don't think we're working.' Justin touched one finger to Lance's collarbone and left the hotel room. Lance sighed heavily, but felt better immediately and called his mom to ask if that was okay. She had said 'you can't feel something just because you should'. Lance had never really felt guilty for anything before either -- turns out that was something else he didn't like at all. 

Joey still thinks that Justin loves Lance, so Joey watches closely every time they're all together. He keeps a little scorecard in his head and right now Lance is winning. Justin's touches are purposeful and his eyes drop meaningful glances, but Lance is skilled at evasion. Lance has never seemed to be touched by Justin's weapons, but Joey thinks that might be changing. He wonders if Justin will ever stop fighting. He doubts it, mainly because he's never seen Justin give up before. 

JC disagrees completely. He thinks Justin's moved on. JC argues that Justin wrote "Gone" about Lance and JC knows he makes a good case. Lance never really liked the song, but he always told everyone he did, so JC thinks that Lance knows, too. JC remembers Justin's eyes when he brought the song, dark but clear and determined. JC considers that the moment Justin got over Lance. 

Chris likes to tell how Justin came to him, crying like an angel. Only when Chris is drunk and Justin's not actually around, of course. Chris remembers calling Lance every name that Justin and Chris could think of and drinking 'til they puked. Then, when they emerged from the hangover, letting Justin win every game in a day-long Tekken battle. Afterwards, Chris always hated Lance, just a little, so Justin didn't have to. Chris, of course, is the best friend Justin could have and no one ever disputes that point. 

Justin thinks about Lance's collarbone sometimes. Mostly while Justin's waiting, when he's in makeup or hair and there are people buzzing all around. He doesn't like them, so he tunes them out. He plays music in his head and remembers Lance's neck, his Adam's apple, his shoulder. Somewhere in time Justin's tongue slips into the hollow there, tastes salt and soap and butterscotch. He licks his lips and the makeup girls smile patiently.

*

**_a good story, well told, will also make your kidneys believe, and your scalp and your tear ducts, your heart and your stomach, the whole human being_ **

Justin rolls his shoulders and cracks his neck. He stretches, arms above his head, entire length unfurled. His voice fills the small space and he thinks it sounds right and steady and strong. He crouches low and springs back up, once, twice, three times and his legs are working just as they should. There's a blur of sound and hands and movement and then the curtain's up, the lights are on and the girls are screaming. 

It still surprises him, sometimes, that the girls scream like that. So high-pitched it can actually burst an eardrum, Chris once explained. It's amazing, the power of teenage girls, he thinks, and sees a garage full of cars and a closet full of clothes. Then the music kicks in and his body knows what to do and he's flying. He doesn't look around, doesn't expect four other voices or bodies; he knows he can fill the space all alone. He worries about what that means, but not too much. There's no time to worry when the lights are flashing from purple to gold and that girl in the third row is rushing the stage and the drums are pulsing through his hips. 

There's the end and the encore and then the real end. This is the middle of the tour, he's used to this now and he laughs with a bodyguard as they run away from the stage. Backstage is quick and hurried and sharp. Justin changes quickly, winds his watch and heads for the bus. The dressing room is empty. He doesn't know anyone in Colorado. 

On the bus, he calls Chris. Every night he calls Chris, right after the show and Chris always takes his call, no matter what he's doing. Chris is the one who talks him through the post-show almost freak-out. Because Justin knows he can perform alone, but afterwards when he's dwelling on all the things that went wrong, he can only see thick latex smiles and wide eyes that say only what they think he wants to hear. Then, with no one screaming and the music silent, Justin misses Joey's fingers twisting in his curls and the sweaty weight of JC demanding to be carried to the bus and Chris's jokes and Lance's deep laugh. So every night he calls and every night Chris is there.

"What up?"

"It's me." Justin curls up against a soft pillow and pulls at his watchband. 

"I know that, J. No one else calls me at one-fifteen in the morning on a week day."

Justin sets his watch carefully on top of the copy of _Vibe_ on the table. "No booty calls for Mr. Kirkpatrick?"

"Those are after two, man."

"Oh, right. So, what were you doing?" Justin listens to Chris's breath, not paying attention to the words, just counting and trying to match the rhythm. Like learning new choreography.

"Justin."

And Justin's listening to the words again. "Yeah?"

"How was the show?"

Justin chokes and coughs. He tells Chris how the little boy in the fourth row stood on his chair and waved. He mentions the sound problems during "Take Me Now" and clicks his disapproval. Justin keeps talking, about the show and the dressing room and Denver itself and he's not sure any of it makes sense. He stops mid-sentence and runs his hand across his cheek. He thinks it might be damp.

"J?" Chris's voice is low. "You all right?"

Justin sucks his lip between his teeth and glances out the window. "Course, man. You don't wanna hear this, though. You talk?" 

Chris sighs, but he talks and Justin breathes deep, blinks back the threatening tears and thinks it's pretty incredible that he has someone who does this for him.

Chris tells two more jokes, and Justin's heard them both before, but when Chris laughs so hard he has to stop after 'never had five' and before he gets to 'bucks before', Justin is laughing too. So he says 'goodnight' and 'thanks' and 'love you, asshole'. Chris just giggles and Justin falls asleep to that sound.

*

**_does it matter what the real Hamlet was like, or the real Ulysses - does it matter? well, I don't think so_ **

Justin has always been quiet and careful. He winds his watch twice a day, every day, and checks to make sure it's keeping the right time at least once an hour. He counts cracks in the sidewalk like dance steps. Each one makes him smile and after two hundred he always makes sure to call his mom and start the count over again. He cracks his knuckles every fifty-seven minutes and it takes him forty-eight seconds to do it just right. 

**

It's a Lakers game -- regular season, nothing particularly important -- at home, against Toronto. Chris comes back from the concession stand during a free throw. He hands Justin a beer, careful not to slosh on Justin's sneakers and sits down. He watches Kobe dribble and then narrows his eyes as he turns back to Justin.

"Are you holding your breath?"

Justin watches the ball arc and fall through the net before turning to Chris. He nods and exhales at the same time.

Chris laughs, but doesn't say anything. When Shaq steps to the line a while later, Chris tilts his head quickly and watches as Justin seals his lips. He laughs again and hits Justin in the abdomen, forcing air between Justin's teeth with a quiet hiss.

Chris doesn't move his hand, light pressure, fingers curling into soft cotton. Chris's pulse flutters in his wrist and Justin feels it, the quick aching that matches the scrape of air trapped in Justin's lungs. Justin relaxes and exhales. His chuckle is strained and he looks at Chris's hand because it's not his face. There's no more air to force out, but Chris's fingers are pushing harder now and Justin doesn't know the words they're trying to spell. Something -- the part of him that knows Chris better than Justin knows himself, maybe -- tells him that he might not want to know, but it's Chris, so Justin keeps trying to figure it out. But then the Staples Center erupts in disappointment and Chris's hand is gone. Justin blinks.

Shaq missed the shot, Justin realizes. He looks up. Shaq wipes his brow and takes the ball from the ref. Justin chews his lip and looks at Chris. Chris has one eyebrow raised and he's smirking. Justin is glad. He watches Vince Carter adjust his shorts, then Justin shrugs and takes a deep breath. Chris snorts, but doesn't move to touch Justin again.

"J, man, you can hold your breath forever and Shaq still won't shoot better than fifty percent from the line."

Justin nods. The ball hits the rim and falls into the basket. He knows Chris is right, but it doesn't matter. Justin can't stop, it feels wrong. He's always held his breath for things he wants and only recently learned to stop gulping in huge breaths when Lance walks out of a room.

**

JC teaches Justin how to produce. Not everything, of course. A lot of stuff Justin picks up on his own over the years. But the basics, the what and how of the soundboard, all of that comes from JC.

"Like, if you want to fuck with that, press here and use these dials." JC spins something and the sound changes. 

Justin smiles, tries it. 

JC shows him more and they make tapes, play with the new songs. They talk about music and eat Chinese food, Justin careful to keep the rice from falling on the board.

"And just make sure to always keep a master." JC points to the tape he's carefully putting back in its case. "You need to label everything, but I know you won't have a problem with that." 

Justin grins as he looks up from the table where he's writing 'feb. 6' on a label in neat green letters. "Nah." He caps his pen and leans back in the chair. "So, more tomorrow?"

JC swings his coat over his shoulder. "If you want."

Justin nods and taps the pen three times against his notebook. He twirls it and taps again. "Yeah, unless you're busy."

JC shakes his head. "Cool. Lock up?"

Justin waves. He sits a bit longer and stares at the board, going over everything one last time before leaving.

Later, when Justin sits down to mix his own album, he'll touch everything on the board, just like JC does that first day, same order, pausing, hands hovering, for remembered tangents of conversation. He'll remember JC's review of the new Ani album and his complaints about some shirt he returned to the Gap. When Justin takes a break, he'll eat shrimp fried rice and at the end of the day everything will be marked in green.

**

Justin shows up at Joey's door at exactly two o'clock and smiles when he hears feet thudding on the floor. The door opens and Justin's already bending to lift Briahna into his arms. She squeals delightedly against his ear and he buries his nose in her curls.

"Bri, baby. How are you?"

"Uncle Justin!" 

She squeezes Justin's neck tightly and he grins at Joey as he walks up, a baby in one hand and a piece of fuzzy pink cloth in the other.

"Dude, thank you. The sitter bailed and I've gotta make this audition. Bri, hon, you gotta put your sweater on." Joey takes Briahna from Justin and gives him the baby in return. Justin coos at her until Joey gets the sweater over Briahna's hair and stands up again. "Okay, man. Let's get it over with."

"What?" Justin feigns innocence, but he's reaching for the bag at his feet.

Briahna bounces up and down. "What'd you bring me? What's in the bag? What is it Uncle Justin, what?"

Joey shakes his head, "you spoil them." But he's laughing as he follows Justin and the girls down the hall.

In the playroom, they watch as Briahna tears off the paper on the first box. There's a doll, a rattle that she hands to the baby in Justin's arms. In the others there are three new books, a set of multi-colored blocks and a pair of sneakers.

"Justin--"

"Joe, come on. She needs them."

"Yes, yes. Every three year old needs new Nikes once a month. It's in the Declaration of Independence, I'm sure."

Justin rolls his eyes and drops to the floor to sit beside Briahna. He gathers the wrapping paper, folds it neatly and piles it next to the toy chest, setting the bows gently on top. The baby gurgles in his lap and none of them notice when Joey sneaks out of the room.

"Let's build a castle." Briahna lets the blocks clatter to the floor and looks at Justin expectantly.

"Sounds like a plan, baby girl."

He shows her how to sort everything by color and size and how to line the blocks up so that the edges meet and there are no gaps or overlaps. They play, walking dolls through the castle and Justin does voices for all of them. The baby flails her arms, knocking over a wall and Justin laughs and sets it up again.

**

Lance has been drinking vodka for the last four hours. He's already talked about how Russia is a nation of psychos, how much he misses key lime pie-- good key lime pie, not his mothers-- and how no one is hotter than Brad Pitt, no matter what _People_ says. Now, he's slumped against the leather booth, a frown on his face.

"There's a story."

Justin nods, waits. He knows the story, but there's no way to stop Lance from telling it, so he just waits.

"We were on the bus. Going to a show. I don't know when."

It was right after Justin and Lance stopped doing whatever it was they were doing for those seven months. Justin knows this too, and so does Lance, but he never says. Justin remembers. Lance was very careful then. He smiled in a way he never had before and stopped telling Justin to fuck off when he pouted.

"You were pouting like a kid 'cause we were out of cereal." Lance rubs his palm with his thumb, thinking. "Cap'n Crunch. I went to 7-11 and bought you Cap'n Crunch, 'cause I felt bad." Lance smiles at Justin and looks down at his hand. 

Justin remembers staring at the new box of cereal for thirteen minutes while Lance busied himself making coffee. He timed it on his watch, waiting for the unlucky number.

"I got coffee. Or, um." 

Lance pauses to take a drink. He always does, when he tells this story. As the glass plinks onto the metal table, Lance looks at Justin like he's never seen him before. That's an always, too.

Justin licks his lips and continues waiting.

"And then. Then you opened the box and you counted out seven pieces of cereal." Lance inhales. "You threw them at me. You dropped twenty on the floor."

Justin remembers counting them out loud, thinks they made a rasping noise against the floor, but knows he couldn't have heard such a thing.

Lance is still talking, "--then eighteen and you crushed them under your thumb, one by one." Lance's eyes narrow and he sighs. "Then you went to your bunk and no one saw you all day."

Lance slurs that last sentence together and Justin knows that Lance started telling Justin to fuck off again the next day. Justin figured then that it meant Lance had stopped feeling guilty about the whole breaking-his-heart thing, but every time Lance tells the story Justin gets more confused. He tips his head back on the seat and listens to Lance swallow more vodka.

**

"Okay, so I'm superstitious," Justin admits over the laughter.

Lynn giggles as she stubs out her cigarette. "When he was six, he caught me chasing a spider around the kitchen of our little apartment and he screamed."

Trace swats Justin's shoulder and rolls his eyes. Justin makes sure no one's looking and flips him off. Trace just rolls his eyes again and Justin smiles. It's nice to be home.

"I asked him what was wrong," Lynn pauses and looks around, grinning at Britney, who giggles and folds herself further under Justin's arm. "He tells me, very seriously, that I couldn't kill any spiders 'cause it was bad luck."

"No, Mom, not bad luck. It makes it rain." Justin shifts his weight on the couch to take the beer Paul hands him. "Thanks." Justin opens the bottle and wipes it with a paper towel. He rests his free hand on Britney's thigh, tapping his index finger with every fourth breath.

"Right, sweetie, right." Lynn smiles at him and touches his knee. "My superstitious baby."

Justin smiles down at her.

Trace starts a story about their cat and Justin cringes just thinking about the little black 'Snowball'. Trace used to hide behind trees and throw the thing in Justin's path. Justin remembers he once failed a math test because of it.

He laughs at himself along with everyone else, but Justin knows it's serious. He walked under a ladder once and his parents said "divorce" the next day. He should have been too young to remember, but he does. A red ladder and his dad fixing shingles before he left. Justin doesn't leave his hats on the bed or open umbrellas in the house. He's had a lot of success in his life and he believes in karma. He's nice to everyone and seven years after they first hit it big in the US, he avoids mirrors as much as possible. Justin never told anyone, but Lance broke up with him right after Justin stepped on a spider in the hotel bathroom. Justin thinks that tears are a kind of rain.

*

**_stories are for those late hours in the night when you can't remember how you got from where you were to where you are_ **

Justin wakes up and he's somewhere else, he doesn't know where, but it doesn't matter because he did it all yesterday and he'll do it again tomorrow and the only thing that changes is the people in the dressing room. This time, Lance is there and Justin bites his lip. 

"Where are we?" 

Lance laughs. "Iowa." 

Justin cocks his head and runs a towel over his face. 

"I've gotta scout locations for a movie, so I figured I'd time it so I could see your show. You were amazing." 

Justin cringes and then grins. "Thanks. It was fine, you know, sound problems." He drops the towel on a chair and glances around for his jeans. "I thought that one song was really off, but. Whatever. I'll fix it before tomorrow."

Lance's eyes are wide. "It was more than fine. Nothing was wrong." 

Justin nods, dismissing the topic, and pulls off his leather pants. 

Lance glances down, eyes lingering on Justin's calf, then meets his eyes. "So, raging Iowa night scene?" 

"You know it." 

And then they're in a dive bar on the edge of town. There are a few bikers and Justin actually makes conversation with them. Asks about their bikes and they seem suitably impressed with his knowledge. Justin's sure they've never seen him before, even though one of Britney's Pepsi ads is hanging on the wall. He smiles, nods goodbye and heads to the bar. He buys two beers and orders a round for his new friends. 

Justin sips his beer and beats Lance at three games of darts and one of pool before Lance decides there's only so much money you can lose in a bar in one night before you have to stop, to keep your rep and all. Justin laughs like he's supposed to and they sit at a table near the jukebox.

Lance bobs his head to the country music and Justin tries not to scowl. 

Lance finishes his beer, waves for the waitress. "I don't know what it is man. She's nice, I guess."

"But, there's something." Justin waits as Lance orders. "She's just not quite right. Every time I see her, it's like we've never met before."

"Yeah," Lance nods. "Starting over each time. Blank slate. _Tabla_ something or other."

They're talking about JC and his newest girlfriend. She's a tall redhead this time and an art dealer. No one likes her, possibly just because no one ever does. Then, Joey and the babies and some experimental and challenging off-Broadway show and Justin still hasn't seen it, but he's scheduled two nights off in New York, so he will. 

Lance tells Justin that he saw Britney at P. Diddy's last party.

"J, girlfriend was so high she could barely walk." Lance giggles and crosses his eyes in a perfect imitation of Britney's drunk face. 

Justin sets his glass down on the table and smiles. He nods his head, encouraging Lance to continue.

"So, she stands up on a chair, tottering all over the place -- Fe's trying to pull her down." Lance flails his arms a little and Justin laughs. "Right, so she climbed on the table and sang two verses of 'We Didn't Start the Fire' before she slipped in a puddle of champagne. And," Lance's voice is higher than usual as he lifts himself out of his seat a few inches. "She just sort of plopped down again, with her legs up in the air like--" Lance drops back down, but he's laughing too hard to continue.

Justin's cracking up as well, and wondering why he hasn't heard the story, he knows a bunch of other people who were there. Nelly and Pharrell, definitely and probably Chris-- He stops laughing and closes his eyes. 

"Fuck." 

Lance's mouth freezes in a half-smile and his eyes widen. "Yeah?" 

"Chris. I always call and I didn't and. Well, I don't know, but I always do." Justin stands up and heads to the door, his cell phone out, before Lance can answer. 

There's lots of noise and Chris's voice is too soft. 

"Yo. Sorry I didn't call, Lance showed up." 

Something that sounds like 'I know' and 'okay' and 'fucking Marilyn Manson, man.' It doesn't make sense at all and Justin's probably hearing it wrong, but then, it is Chris so who knows. 

"I can't hear you, but I wanted to apologize. We'll talk tomorrow. Love you, asshole." 

Justin hears Lance's name and the connection's broken and he stares at the blue-ish glow from the phone until it flickers away. He goes back inside, finds Lance stretching and yawning. 

He looks at Justin and his eyes are wide and somehow guarded at the same time. "How's Chris?"

"No idea, man. I couldn't hear him. He knew you were here, though." Justin looks around for the waitress.

"I told Joey."

Justin nods. "Right. So, do you want another beer or someth--"

Lance shakes his head, a spike that somehow avoided the gel flopping into his face. "Nah, I've gotta sleep." He yawns to emphasize the point. 

Lance is never going to be a good actor, Justin thinks, but he nods again and they leave the bar anyway. 

*

**_a good lie, if nobly told, for a good reason, seems to me preferable to a very boring and pedestrian truth, which can lie, too_ **

Chris becomes Justin's best friend because of Lance. Justin is eighteen and broken-hearted and Chris is the coolest person Justin has ever met. So, Chris comes in late one night, smelling like beer and crisp leaves and Justin is sitting outside his hotel room door. 

Inside, Justin tells him about Lance and Chris gives him tequila.

"Lance is an asshole." Chris watches Justin do a shot and imitates his grimace. 

Justin wipes his mouth and hands the bottle back to Chris. "Well, but then--" The tequila is still burning in his stomach and Justin has trouble speaking. But Chris stares, curious and Justin tries to remember. "Then I'm an idiot? Because, like," Justin licks a drop of alcohol off his lip. "Why would I love an asshole? 'Cause that's just dumb." 

Chris winces, looks down and breathes deep. When he looks back, his eyes are almost wet. "Okay, scratch that. I was wrong, Lance isn't an asshole." 

Justin slides from the edge of the bed to the floor and Chris comes to sit beside him.

"It'll be okay, J."

Justin doesn't believe him, really. Justin's pretty sure Lance is the biggest asshole ever, and that Justin is a complete idiot for loving him. But it's nice to hear.

Justin cries and drinks more, switching to rum when the tequila's gone. Everything gets fuzzy after that, but he has these flashes of Chris touching his face, of Chris breaking a bottle and shouting. And Chris curls up beside Justin when he mumbles 'Lance' against the pillow. Chris folds the blanket around Justin and rubs his back until Justin passes out. 

The next day, Justin and Chris play Tekken and Chris lets him win six times before Justin catches on. 

Justin smiles. "If I win the next one, you have to agree that Lance is an asshole and I'm a moron and I get to hate both of us forever." 

Chris wins the next five games. 

**

The tour has been over for months and Lance is not going into space and JC's in an extremely creative coke phase and none of it makes any sense. Justin's first solo single is out, so he's doing press and dating a lot and he's nervous and wound up and his doctor thinks he has an ulcer. It's all bad, but Justin thinks that none of it is quite as bad as the fact that Chris is gone. He's not gone, he sent a postcard from Atlantis-- signed by Michael Jordan, even-- but Justin hasn't talked to him since August. Justin fingers the edge of the postcard, unbends a corner and sticks it back in his suitcase. He checks his watch, cracks his knuckles and heads out.

The club is loud and Justin leans against Nick and watches Joey flirt with a redhead across the room. He grins and takes the glass Jenna offers. He's bobbing his head, thinking about dancing when his phone vibrates. He pulls it out and he drops his glass. 

"Fuck. Justin--" Nick stands up and flicks tonic off his Dickies.

"Sorry." Justin stands and turns away, pressing the phone tight to his ear. "Chris?" He's shouting.

"Where are you, man?"

Justin's body relaxes and he weaves easily through the crowd. Chris is breathing in Justin's ear and he's not sure if Lonnie's following him or not. 

"Club. Hold on a sec." 

"'Kay." Chris hums under his breath. "Like I Love You" and Justin smiles.

Justin pushes against a grey metal door and steps outside. It smells like dying worms, like after it rains, but Justin leans against the brick anyway, propping the door a crack with the toe of his sneaker.

"Okay, man, I'm outside."

"J man. What's up?"

"Nothing. Where are you?"

"Home. My mom's." There's a pause. "Look, sorry I--

"It's fine. What have you been doing?"

"Nah, J, it's not fine." 

Justin squints into the dark, hopes the darker blur wasn't a rat and tries not to inhale too much. "Chris, are you okay?" There's a long pause. "Come on, seriously. If I cancel the radio show I can be home tomorrow." A muffled noise and Justin is standing up straight, reaching for the door. 

"No, J. It's cool. I'm just." Chris swallows. "I missed you and talking hurt too much, but."

Justin wants to be confused, but he knows what Chris means. He remembers the soft touch of lips on his before he pulled back, giggling. He thinks if he closes his eyes, he'll still hear the way his giggle choked to death when Justin looked in Chris's eyes. He feels his lips shape the same 'oh', but this time he doesn't speak it. Remembers the quiet as Chris licked his lips and turned around to leave the party.

"I did miss you, too, Chris. A lot. I love you, man. It's tha--"

"No, J. It's not important. Any more, I swear." Chris's voice is hesitant, but the words tumble over one another. "I was just calling 'cause I missed you. And I'm home. So, you know. Call me tomorrow?"

"Of course. If it's okay." Justin breathes too deeply and the air leaves an oily taste on his tongue, like too many potato chips or bad Mexican food.

"It's always okay." Justin pulls the door open and he can hear the music inside. "I'm sorry, Justin. I'm an asshole."

"Well, yeah." Justin smiles into the phone and steps inside. "But I love you anyway. Go sleep it off and we'll talk tomorrow."

"Yeah." There's a pause. "Say hi to Alyssa?"

Alyssa's in LA, but Justin nods. "Will do." He hangs up and shuts the door behind him.

**

Justin moves through the steps without thinking about them. Turns, drops his shoulder and thinks about Chris instead. When Chris tells Justin he loves him now -- every night, after every show -- what Justin remembers more than anything else is repeating 'Lance is not an asshole' until he was laughing so hard there were tears on his cheeks and then Chris's hand rough on his face when Justin realized he wasn't laughing anymore. Justin twirls, smooth and quick, lets the last note fall from his lips and smiles as he folds himself into a bow before standing to leave. The screaming follows him, but he leaves it behind.

Chris is Justin's best friend, in the handed down from god, carved in stone sort of way. That fact is as much a part of who Justin is as his family and performing. Chris and Mama and music, and Justin refuses to imagine life without any of them. Justin smiles as the curtain swishes closed behind him. He likes that, actually having a real curtain. Another thing he likes about theaters. This theater is in Philly and Chris is waiting in the dressing room. 

Justin knew he'd be there and has been marking the days off in his planner with a purple marker. Now, the show over and he barely cares how it went. Although he knows it went well He takes one of the publicity people's cell phones and calls Chris. 

"It's me. 'Sup?" 

"Where are you?" Chris is chewing something. 

"I'm on my way to the dressing room, are you there yet?" Justin grins at Anthony, flashes a cheesy thumbs up and wipes sweat off his neck. 

"Yeah, man. Just waiting for you." 

Chris is smiling, Justin knows and he listens as Chris swallows. He bumps into a stagehand, nods an apology and then he's at the door, pushing through and there's Chris and if he wasn't smiling before, he is now. Justin hands the phone back to the hand closest to his and shuts the door behind him. 

Chris makes a show of looking at the phone and narrowing his eyes. "Asshole hung up on me. Does he know who I am? I have people. They can make him regret things." 

"Shut up, man." 

Justin hugs Chris and there's a moment of silence. They talk every day, but he hasn't seen Chris in months. But, it's Chris, so a moment of silence really is only a moment.

"J. The show kicks ass. Really and truly. I know you think that third song was off, but no one could tell. Trust me, I know these things." 

"Hey, I try." Justin's stripping off his costume and they both pretend Chris isn't staring fixedly in the other direction. But Justin moves quickly anyway, trying to cover himself up so he doesn't have to see the sharp edges of Chris's smile. 

"It was good. I was impressed, I cheered. And I can scream at a higher pitch than any teenage girl." Justin laughs and Chris turns back to face him. "You were always perfect on stage." 

Justin buttons his jeans and believes every word Chris says. He slips into a t-shirt, Jimi Hendrix, and Chris nods his approval.

Justin lifts the leather pants from the floor and shakes them out before folding them. He runs his hand briskly over the fabric, smoothing it and then lays them carefully on a table. He bends again for the shirt, but stops halfway down to look at Chris who is laughing and shaking his head. 

"What?" Justin asks, standing gracefully and matching the shoulder seams of the shirt.

"Those are just going in the laundry, right?" Justin nods. "So I don't think they need to be meticulously folded, J."

Justin shrugs and places the shirt on top of the pants. "Just trying to be neat." 

He lets a thread fall to the floor, loses sight of it before it reaches the ground. Chris is still laughing and Justin finally gives in, grins back.

"Whatever. Let's get the fuck outta here. Cheesesteaks?" 

Chris's eyes light up. "God, yes." 

*

**_somebody tells a story, let's say, and afterward you ask, "is it true?" and if the answer matters, you've got your answer_ **

It's Free on _106 and Park_ who finally asks and Justin thinks he should have known. 

"This song's really emotional, man. Reminds me of the first guy who broke my heart. Is it about anyone in particular?"

Justin's face is flat and he can hear the silence. There's probably noise, the audience and all, but Justin is listening closely and so he can hear the soft waves of nothingness. He doesn't know what to say. He should have prepared an answer, but the song's not a single and he hadn't thought it was important. He stares at his watch, sees the right time and then looks at his fingers. Still fifteen minutes until he can crack his knuckles and as much as he wants to do it now, he can't break the routine. 

"Justin, man?" 

He smiles at the guy who's not AJ and can't remember his name. Justin nods his head. "Sorry, I--" 

He's still blank, but he's trying. He doesn't look at his publicist. He pictures Lance, feels his warm skin under his finger. He frowns. Wrong answer. 

"Well, you know, it is emotional. Definitely about heartbreak and I'm actually thrilled that it makes that connection for you." 

Justin sees Chris, his smile hidden in a tequila haze, swearing that Lance is definitely not an asshole. He smiles, but it's still the wrong answer. 

"So, you know. Not about anyone specific." 

He can feel Britney's brittle hair wrapped around his finger, can feel strong thighs wrap tight around him. Darker hair swirling in his face, silky smooth. Coffee colored skin he'd dreamed forever, tasting like almonds. Two-day stubble leaving red streaks of modern art on his pale thighs. But none of them are right.

"It's about everyone. Universal heartbreak." 

Not-AJ nods, "You speak for the people." 

Justin laughs and the silence is gone, it melts away and he shakes his head once, like clearing the picture on an Etch-a-Sketch. "Exactly." 

Free laughs, too. "Well, you spoke to me." 

After the interview ends, Justin nods, shakes hands, signs a cd, thanks everyone, washes his face and collapses in his car. He breathes slowly and almost falls asleep on the way to the hotel. 

**

New Jersey on a Monday and Joey comes to visit. They take Briahna to McDonald's and Justin steals her fries. 

"Dude. Order your own."

Justin licks the ketchup off his index finger and smiles. "She doesn't mind." He pulls at Briahna's pigtail. "Do you, sweetie?"

"No, Daddy. It's okay. Uncle Justin and I are sharing." Her little voice deepens to emphasize the importance of sharing and Joey and Justin laugh over her head.

"Well then."

Briahna munches on her nuggets, dipping them in honey until there's no way they could taste like chicken. Justin laughs and listens to Joey talk about the play.

"I'm coming in a few weeks, you know. Built it into the schedule."

"Yeah," Joey hands Briahna a napkin. "Lance told me." Joey looks up at Justin quickly and then back down. "I was thinking, tell me the exact dates and we'll get everyone up at the same time. I miss that."

Justin grins. "Yeah, yeah. Let's. But, will Lance be able to make it? With the movie and all?"

Joey tilts his head. "I'm sure he'll make the time. If we're all gonna be there. If you're gonna be there."

Justin frowns. "I just saw him, you know." Justin tastes honey and looks at the fry he's eating, but it's Joey's and there's nothing on it but salt. 

"I know. I just think-- I don't know, but he'll come."

Justin starts to ask what Joey means, but Briahna interrupts. 

"Daddy! I'm done. Can I play?" She pushes her trash towards Joey and Justin stands up.

"Oh!" Briahna pulls at Justin's sleeve as they walk towards the PlayPlace. "I had a tea party with Uncle Chris and Uncle JC the other day. But that was in Orlando. Before I came to see Daddy. Did we tell you I'm staying in New York for the whole summer?"

"You did. And what are you guys goin--"

Justin lets his voice trail off as Briahna runs towards the cage filled with balls. Joey laughs at him and they follow behind. They lean against the wall and watch Briahna as she plays.

"I didn't know JC was in Florida."

Joey nods. "He's visiting Chris in Miami and they went to see Bri before she left." Joey squints at Justin.

"I talked to him last night." Joey waves to Briahna and Justin sticks out his tongue. "He just didn't mention C."

"I don't know. I guess he asked for JC to come visit after he got back from Philly." Joey glances at Justin out of the corner of his eye and Justin pretends not to notice. "C said he seemed kinda down or something, but. I mean, if he hasn't mentioned it." 

Justin shivers and wishes he'd brought a jacket. "Huh." He walks over to the cage entrance and opens his arms. Briahna launches herself into them and he hugs her tight. Joey puts a hand on his shoulder and pushes them towards the slide.

When Briahna's completely exhausted and Justin has to get going, they head for the exit.

"I'm coming to see you sing tonight, right?" Briahna's hand is sticky, but Justin holds on anyway.

"Yes you are. I'm very excited. And if you're a good girl, I'll let you come backstage."

Joey rolls his eyes as Briahna squeaks, "Really?"

Justin nods and lifts her up as Joey gets in the car. He spins her around until she's breathless and then fits her carefully into her car seat and closes the door. He leans into the passenger side window.

"J, if she gets carsick, you're cleaning it up."

"Oh, I'd love to Joe, I would, but," Justin looks at his watch, "I've got soundcheck in fifteen minutes and--" 

Behind Justin, Lonnie chuckles. Joey turns the key in the ignition and Justin feels the car move. He steps back, grinning. "I'll see you after the show?"

Joey nods and pulls away and Justin can hear Briahna's voice in the air.

*

**_taking a kind of lazy man's conviction in the belief that stories require no justification, they just are_ **

JC talks about his first love like it's a fairy tale. He met Joey so long ago and still loves him so much that if he was ever in pain he can't remember it now. He says Joey never broke his heart, Joey's too careful with people to ever break anyone. JC's first true heartbreak wasn't even about romance, or, not about a relationship, anyway. No one ever asks him about L.A., but they all know he came back scarred. 

Joey's heart has been broken more times than he can count, but he just laughs it off. There was Kelly and Jennifer and JC and that actress and two different models and the Broadway director and then Kelly again. But he always says that a broken heart is better than one that doesn't work and he plans to keep falling in love. He starts dating a cocktail waitress and everyone laughs, but they're happy for him.

Heartbreak is Chris's lot in life and he's always pretty surprised when things don't end up hurting. Every goal he actually achieves and every person who doesn't leave is still a surprise. He told his mother that once and she cried and Chris felt like the worst person alive, so now he doesn't mention it. But really, he knows he's destined to want things he'll never have and he doesn't know what life would be like without the constant ache of longing. Everything changes, and usually not for the better, Chris has seen evidence of this all his life. The only thing he has to disprove this is Justin and he thinks that's just a matter of time. 

Lance tells people he's never had his heart broken and they look at him like he's lying. When he tries to convince them, they look jealous or angry. So he explains that you can't have your heart broken if you protect it from people and he thinks he sees pity in their eyes. Generally, he avoids the topic. He knows what it's like to break someone's heart though. He remembers watching Justin's fingers as he slowly destroyed a handful of cereal and not understanding why. Later though, he watched Chris clean up the mess, stooping to get the puffs of grain that fell to the floor. Chris tossed them in the trash and then stared at Lance, eyes gaping like a cut. So yeah, Lance knows a little bit about breaking hearts.

Justin thinks there aren't enough words for love. One word shouldn't cover the way he feels about so many different things. Also, it'd be easier to write pop songs. It's the same thing for heartbreak. He remembers a shortness of breath, the strain of holding back tears. There was a moment, once, when everything stopped moving and it was like standing in a snowstorm with no coat. Different pains - dull throbs, quick but deep pinpricks, and sharp, crackling-fire. He doesn't think one word or one concept can hold all that. Every time his heart broke, it felt different. 

*

**_it wasn't a war story. it was a love story_ **

Two nights in Boston and Justin's always surprised that New England gets so hot, then Toronto and money colored like Monopoly. Great shows in both places and he's hyped when the bus pulls into New York. His show goes well and Nelly's in town, so they hit the clubs. Justin dances all night and he still has energy to burn. He writes in the early morning and finally drifts off to sleep, the pen curled between his fingers.

A quick day of press now and then two days off. Joey's there, of course. He's doing a show, but really he lives in the city almost all the time now. Chris flies in early and Justin finds him in his hotel room when he gets back from his last interview. They hug and it doesn't occur to him to ask how Chris got into the room. Justin's happy, it's a nice surprise and they have dinner there with the tv on -- _M*A*S*H_ reruns and Klinger's finally going home. Chris has a room, three floors up, but he falls asleep after _The Simpsons_ and Justin just turns out the light and makes sure to leave space between their bodies. 

JC gets in the next morning. He calls from the airport, happy to be there, excited about Joey's show and tells them Lance has been in New York for two days. Justin wrinkles his brow, wonders why he didn't know this and cuts off a story about baby clothes to tell JC they'll meet him in an hour. 

"Chris?" 

"Yeah?" Chris's voice is muffled. Justin walks to the door of the bathroom and finds him brushing his teeth. 

"Did you know Lance was here already?" 

Chris shakes his head and then bends to spit into the sink. 

"Me neither, but C says he is. Wonder why the fucker never called." 

"So call him, J." Chris shuts the door and Justin hears the shower start. 

Justin calls Lance, but he doesn't answer so Justin leaves a message. "Why didn't I know you were here, fucker? We're doing the shopping thing and it's me and JC, so we'll be at it all day. Call us." 

Chris comes out, wrapped in a towel and flicking water from his hair and heads to the suitcase the bodyguards brought down earlier. Justin showers quickly, dresses in the bathroom and only flinches a little when he comes out and catches Chris staring at the bathroom door, gnawing his fingernails. Then he and Chris are heading to meet JC for lunch. They spend the day laughing and shopping. Justin buys Chris new motorcycle boots and JC buys Justin sheets that aren't quite cotton and apparently feel 'like heaven'. Lance calls, says he can't come shopping with them because he'd rather play nanny and none of them blame him. Chris sings snippets of his new stuff, it's rock, not too hard and it's good. Justin feels right at home as they take a cab to the theater. 

Lance is there, his eyes are bloodshot and he shies away from Justin's hands, but he's smiling. They all hug and Justin can smell the familiar scents mingling and he tips his neck to kiss each man on the top of the head. They sit down, JC and Lance and Justin and Chris. There's a quiet before the play and Justin feels the shiver down his spine, thinks of Joey, smiling and telling some inappropriate joke to a wardrobe girl. Then the play starts and Justin couldn't think of Joey if he wanted too, because his friend on stage has become someone else completely. They stand to clap at the end and then rush backstage. They're piled on top of Joey, voices rising and falling and harmonizing even in speech and Justin may not need this like air anymore, but nothing else feels quite as natural. 

"You were great." 

"Dude. Why didn't we know you were such a talented bastard?" 

"Blew me away, Joe." 

"Wonderful." 

"Thanks for coming, guys." 

Justin loves them all more than seems believable. 

Joey takes them all to dinner, just the five of them and they talk and drink. Justin sits back and eats and observes. He's the quiet one here. He has plenty of time to be the center of attention so with them he never is and he's thankful for that. Joey flirts with the waitress.

"Looking for a new girlfriend?" Chris teases and Joey smacks him, but he doesn't say no. 

Justin thinks Chris is too quiet and Lance is too loud and Justin doesn't want it to be his fault. He feels like everyone knows something he doesn't and it's frustrating. He plays with his fork and is careful to cut his meat into bite size pieces. 

"So, if I diversify in the med stocks, then I think I can earn--" 

Justin is listening to Lance talk about the stock market and is surprised that he's interested. He puts his fork down and leans in to hear him over Joey, who is ordering more wine. 

Chris coughs and Justin feels eyes on him. He sees JC's hand move to touch Chris. Justin is careful not to look at Chris then, knows it'll hurt him and that tonight is about happy memories, not sad ones. He stays focused on Lance and gets the name of his broker before turning back to the rest of the table. Joey is staring at him and Justin jumps, spills a drink on JC's sparkly pants.

"Justin. Fuck. I just had these cleaned."

Lance laughs. "C, they're ugly anyway." He brushes his hand over Justin's wrist as he leans over to give JC a napkin. 

Justin watches Joey and JC communicate with their eyes. 

Joey puts a hand on the small of Lance's back and smiles. "Dude, don't insult the sparkles. Didn't he bite you for that once, Chris?"

"He did, man." And Chris spins some ridiculous story about JC's sharp teeth and rabies until they're all gasping for breath and Justin's eyes are stinging with unshed tears.

"You're lying," JC manages to say and that sets them all off again.

Chris kicks Joey under the table, for no particular reason, until he growls. And they all sit and catch their breath. Once everyone's quieted down, JC asks about Briahna and Joey answers. Justin knows all of it already, so he watches Chris and Lance, instead. Although, really, he's been watching them all night. He's always watching them, trying to puzzle things out. 

They're friends, more than friends. They love each other and Justin knows this is true. They talk, about business and Joey's daughters and people they know. They touch and laugh and pick on JC together. But there's a space between the two of them and Justin also knows that the space is just his size. He wonders if he could fix it, but he's afraid he doesn't really want to and worries that even if he could, and did, it's too late. He thinks maybe balances have been established and if he nudges things just slightly off, the whole system will collapse. He looks down and cleans his watch with his shirt and when he looks up again, Lance and Chris are both laughing at him. He grins.

*

**_and in the end, really, there's nothing much to say about a true war story, except maybe "oh"_**

In Justin's first clear memory, he's four. He remembers sunshine fading and the thick scent of flowers. He was sitting on his mother's lap, eating peach cobbler and laughing. He saw something off to his left and pushed off and ran towards it. It turned out to be dragonfly and he chased it around in a circle for a minute. He's not sure if it ever happened, but it's pretty and that's what his childhood felt like, so he keeps it.

Everything before that is hazy and only comes in flashes, if at all. Justin's parents got divorced when he was three, so he doesn't remember much. He can never decide if that's a good thing or not. Sometimes he thinks that he's glad he wasn't really there for all the fighting and the anger. And then other times it feels like a part of him is missing. Like no matter how unpleasant, he should have been there for such a life-altering moment. He goes back and forth on that, but mostly thinks he wants to remember and so he always tries really hard to pay attention now. He doesn't want to forget the important things. 

Justin explains this to Chris in an airport. They're waiting, a delayed flight. Justin doesn't know where Lance is, sees JC sleeping on a hard plastic chair and Joey is laughing with an off-duty flight attendant, a blonde. 

Chris just looks at him and says, "I guess. But, most people'd rather forget the bad times, J." 

Justin nods. It's true. But he can't shake the idea that the bad things define your character and if you hide from the memories, you'll never figure out who you are. So Justin tells Chris that, too, once they move into the airport bar, Chris telling a joke and Justin flashing a blinding grin to get him in. 

Chris smiles, patiently. He stares at Justin like he's learning something new and touches the back of Justin's hand before saying, "You can be a strong person even if you have a good life." 

Justin thinks about that as he sips his rum and Coke. After a minute, Chris shakes his head and asks if Justin caught the Pacers game last night. Justin didn't, so he lets Chris tell him about it and laughs when Chris imitates Spike Lee. 

**

Germany was different than Orlando and they talked about being 'back in America' like it was a candy-coated fantasy. But now they're here and everything's somehow bitter instead. Malls and three shows a day and Lou's never satisfied with the size of the crowds. 'You'll have to work hard again,' Lou had said and that might be the biggest understatement Justin's ever heard. 

Now, they stay in even cheaper hotels, which doesn't make sense because Justin thinks they should have money from European sales. But, he could be wrong. Either way, it's still mostly winter and Justin shivers under three heavy blankets, but sweats under four. He tries not to cry loudly -- they've got three shows tomorrow and only four more hours to sleep. He's seventeen now and his mom's not even touring with them. He can handle this by himself.

Justin rolls over and stares out the window, sniffling and sticking his tongue out to catch the occasional tear. He jumps when a hand wraps around his shoulder.

"Shhh, Justin."

Lance sits on the bed and Justin presses back against him. "I'm sorry I woke you up."

"It's fine. I wasn't sleeping either."

Lance's hand rubs slow circles on Justin's shoulder and Justin inhales. He holds his breath until Lance slips under the blankets. 

"Come on, J. We have to sleep. Three shows tomorrow and then a flight to LA."

Justin nods and tosses the fourth blanket onto the floor. His arms are curled to his chest and he can feel Lance's breath on his neck. "Long day."

He's starting to slip into sleep. "Yeah." Lance's laugh rumbles in his ear. "Lou's kind of a jerk."

And Justin thinks that's the biggest understatement he's ever heard, but he just smiles. "Thanks," he mumbles. He doesn't know if Lance answers him.

**

Justin sits on the porch of Britney's house. His house, too, really. He sits and looks out at Hollywood. He's tired and he still hurts every time he thinks about Lance and Justin knows it's been way too long for that. But it's more like a papercut then the falling on shattered glass feeling he's accustomed to and Chris says that's probably a good sign.

He picks up his pen again and then glances at his watch. He sets the pen down, and licks the pad of his finger so he can rub a small line of ink off of the watch face. He's almost got it all and he starts beatboxing a little. He bobs his head and keeps going and he doesn't hear the door slide open and Wade come onto the porch. 

"J, that's good. What is that?"

Justin looks up and cocks his head. "That? Nothing. You like?"

Wade nods and puts his glass on the table. Justin lifts it and slips a yellow plastic coaster underneath. Wade rolls his eyes and picks up a pen. He jots something down and Justin watches. He starts beatboxing again and in a few minutes he can hear the song. 

"Okay, yeah." 

Wade hands Justin the paper and sits across from him, watching. "Lyrics? It's kinda...sad? Even though it's more upbeat than some things, it has a melancholy or something."

"'A melancholy'?" Justin says, lifting his eyebrow, but Wade's right. 

Justin thinks of cuts that heal and cuts that never will. He checks his watch again, even though there's nowhere to be. He licks his lips and starts writing.

*

**_war stories, like any good story, are finally about the human heart. about the choices we make, or fail to make. the forfeitures in our lives._ **

Justin's last show is in four days. He has one more before that and then a three-month vacation, the longest he's had since NSync ended. He opens the door to the dressing room and Lance is there, perched on the arm of a sofa, not smiling and Justin stops short. 

"Hey?" 

Lance looks up and his lips twist. "Hey." 

"Did I know you were coming?" Justin slips out of his shirt and tips his head. 

"No. I just-- It was last minute." 

"Oh. Cool. Well, let me change and we ca--" 

"Do you ever worry that we made a big mistake?" Lance is standing now and he turns away, faces the wall.

Justin's hand hovers over the zipper on his pants and his eyes narrow. "A mistake? When?" And he wonders if he's been holding his breath. 

"Ending the group. Starting the group. Ending us." 

Lance's shoulders are completely still and Justin realizes that it's Lance who's not breathing. Justin takes the three steps to reach him. He smells caramel and mint.

"Why?" 

"I was just-- I was in New York with Joey and it made me wonder and well. Justin, did we?"

Justin rests his hand on Lance's back. "It was time to end the group, we did everything we wanted together. And we all know that starting the group was the smartest thing any of us ever did." 

Lance nods, he knows all that. "And us?" 

"Bass." Justin pauses, thinks, crosses and uncrosses his fingers. "You weren't in love with me." 

And there's nothing under Justin's hand anymore because Lance is turning quickly. His face is pink and serious. 

"I know I wasn't." Lance pauses, his eyes searching Justin's face. "I don't think I was. But what if I just didn't know?" There's a twisting urgency in Lance's voice that makes Justin wince. "What if I was? You were in love with me and I was twenty and scared and an asshole and maybe I made the wrong decision." 

"You weren't an asshole," Justin says immediately, years of brainwashing, but he believes it now. Lance wasn't in love with him and it would have been worse if he'd kept pretending. 

"Joey says you still love me. That you want me back. And he thinks I want you." 

Justin doesn't answer. All that was true. Recently, even. But Justin's had all this time. Time to be alone with his thoughts and his memories and he doesn't think it is anymore. 

"Justin." 

Lance is pressing against him, then. He traces a slow careful line down Justin's spine with his index finger and then he stretches, up on his toes and that's all it takes. Years and hours and tears and that's all it takes. Justin kisses back and it's thick and sweet, but not quite the same as he remembers. 

They kiss for a while, nothing touching but their lips and a hand on Justin's waist. Lance is holding tight and Justin is glad because he's feeling dizzy. He feels Lance lose his balance and sway to the left, but Lance adjusts for it, moving his head. Lance's tongue sweeps across the roof of Justin's mouth and Justin can feel it in his toes. And it makes his headache and everything tastes sour now, and too heavy on his tongue, so Justin pulls away. 

"What if I made a mistake?" Lance's words are soft and Justin wonders if he's been drinking, tries to decide if he tasted alcohol.

Lance's lips are red, red and his skin is flushed and his green eyes are glittering. His fingers are digging into Justin's hip. Justin licks the corner of his mouth before speaking. 

"Lance." 

Lance steps back. Slumps against the couch and folds his arms over his chest. 

Justin waits, but Lance doesn't speak. Justin frowns. "You weren't in love with me." 

"And now you're not in love with me." Lance's voice is so quiet that Justin could pretend he didn't hear. But he did and he can't tell Lance that he's wrong.

Justin sighs and steps forward. He wants to rub Lance's shoulder, touch the skin just under his collar, but he's not sure he should. Lance looks up at him and he's not crying. 

"Okay, then." Lance inhales deeply. 

"Yeah." Justin lets his hand settle against the slippery polyester of Lance's shirt, just for a moment and then steps away. 

"You should change." Lance is standing straight again and almost smiling and Justin knows it'll be okay, if not now, then soon. 

He smiles back. "Yeah." 

*

**_you can tell a true war story if you just keep on telling it_ **

Everyone remembers that Lance broke Justin's heart first, but that's not exactly how it happened. Justin was eighteen and Lance was twenty and Justin looked at Lance like he was the hottest thing Justin had ever seen. Lance said 'yeah sure, let's try', so they did. For seven months, there was no question that together they were the hottest thing going. They were young and rich and flexible and smiled secret smiles before they disappeared into locked rooms at industry functions. It was good, Justin thought and he was in love and he was loved. Then there was the breakup and the giant hole in Justin's chest was what heartbreak felt like. 

So it's true that Lance broke Justin's heart, but what everyone forgets, or never knew in the first place, is that Justin broke Lance's. Because Lance was swept away in the look on Justin's face and the feel of Justin's lips against his skin and the way it was special and all for Lance. It was like sitting in the sunlight on a hot day. But the thing about that, Lance once told Joey, is that it starts to get uncomfortable after awhile. And Lance suddenly didn't feel right in his own skin and he itched where Justin touched him and Lance didn't think not loving someone should hurt at all. But that was one more in a series of unpleasant lessons, because watching Justin leave that hotel room, silent and small, Lance broke in a way he didn't think he could ever fix. He talked to his mother and then showered, scrubbing his collarbone until it was red and raw. 

Joey and JC talk about it sometimes, they argue about Lance and Justin and if they'll ever get back together. JC says no, he thinks Justin's grown up too much. What he means is that Justin's grown away from them and has forgotten the boy who fell in love with Lance. JC misses those boys, one full of gangly confidence and the other a mass of enthusiastic insecurities. Joey smiles indulgently at JC and tells him they're still the same people. He thinks they'll end up together, someday. He knows that Lance loves Justin, he was just scared and Joey believes in fairy tales, so he thinks Justin will wait forever for true love. JC rolls his eyes and says that Justin shouldn't have to. They could argue about it forever, but they don't because Chris is there and neither of them is cruel. 

Chris doesn't think about Justin and Lance. He couldn't weigh in on Joey and JC's argument if he wanted to. He loves Lance, only hates him for that one moment in time when it was the absolute only thing to do to make things right. Lance is probably the smartest guy Chris knows, Chris loves that about him and he thinks probably the only stupid thing Lance ever did was let Justin go. But, he's smart and Chris also thinks that one day Lance will figure things out and Justin will be able to stop holding his breath. Chris doesn't wear a watch, but he can tell time. Chris has never asked Justin about Lance, because he doesn't think about it. Almost never.

*

**_this is true_ **

"So, J. What're the big vacation plans?" 

"We're riding, right man? I have it all mapped out. Like, Lance actually bought us a map, so." Justin shifts his weight and leans back in the seat. His last show was wonderful and the limo is taking him home, one more call to Chris and then he plans to sleep for a whole day. 

"Lance got us a map?" Chris's voice is soft. 

"Yeah. He was at the Atlanta show. He's always appearing unannounced. I guess he likes to keep us on our toes." Chris doesn't laugh, so Justin bites his lip and continues. "Anyway, we were in some stupid convenience store and they had a map of the South and Lance asked if we needed one for our trip." 

"What was Lance doing at your show?" Chris coughs and Justin tips his head against the leather. "I mean, isn't Mr. Hollywood busy, busy, busy?" 

"Yeah, I guess he cleared some space on his calendar for me. I was touched." Justin laughs, since Chris won't. "He wanted to talk about some stuff. Whatever. We did, it was, I don't know. Fine?" 

There's a long pause and Justin's shoulders are tense. He knows what it looks like when Chris thinks Justin's not looking, brown eyes open canyons staring like he knows Justin's gonna leave. Justin's not going anywhere Chris can't go too, but he doesn't know how to say that, so he just keeps talking. 

"Chris, did you fall asleep on me?" Chris sighs in Justin's ear. "Seriously, everything's fine, man. And yeah, we've got a map. I marked a great route and there are a couple of golf courses on the way. I figured we could rent clubs." 

"So, you do still wanna do that?" Chris is practically inaudible now. 

Justin pulls at the curls at his collar. "Yeah, dude." He sips his water, waits. "Don't you?" 

And then Chris is loud again. "And be trapped with you for two weeks? Do you think I'm nuts?" 

Justin makes him wait for it, smiles into the phone and closes his eyes. "Completely nuts. Now fuck off and don't call me 'til Tuesday. I've got shit to do." 

"Love you, J." 

"Love you, asshole." 

Justin hangs up and listens to the silence. It's nice, he thinks and he feels something settle. The limo stops and he's home and he's happy. He exhales.


End file.
